


May We Stay Lost on Our Way Home

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale is VERY BAD at comforting, Blankets, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is good at comforting, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Hastur has a vulva right now, Hurt/Comfort, Ligur Has A Penis, Ligur is so beautiful i cry, Morning Sickness, Nonbinary Character, Other, Pregnancy, Rimming, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-07-11 22:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19935601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Not like I did it on purpose,” Hastur mumbled. “Must’ve got carried away in the moment.”“How exactly do you accidentally give yourself a uterus and all the rest?” Crowley asked.INCOMPLETE





	1. Chapter 1

Ligur had Hastur up against the wall, right by the sign that forbade licking. It didn’t say anything about fucking there, though, so they were all right. Ligur was holding him up, keeping him in place while he thrust inside of him. He was so strong, Hastur loved how strong he was, loved how he used that strength to lift him up and fuck into him. Hastur’s bare gangly legs wrapped around him, his clothes somewhere on the floor. Ligur had merely taken off his coat and shoved his trousers and underwear down enough to take out his cock, desperate for Hastur as he was.

Ever since Armageddon didn’t happen, he’d been insatiable, and Hastur was soaking up the attention like he couldn’t get enough. Hastur was a jealous sort, couldn’t help it, didn’t necessarily want to help it. He was a demon, after all. Of course, they’d been married for ages, but Hastur still felt entranced when his husband gave him his complete attention, staring at him with those beautiful ringed eyes like Hastur was everything he could ever want.

Hastur’s wedding ring, worn on a chain around his neck, was jostled against his chest as Ligur bounced him on his cock.

“Love when you fuck me like this,” Hastur moaned, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Love it. Love you.”

“You’re in a mood,” Ligur said, sinking all the way inside of him.

“Can’t--can’t I say it?”

“Of course you can.” Ligur reached between them to play with Hastur’s clit, to make him shiver and scream.

“Then--then I’ll keep saying it. I love you. I love you. I--ah!” Hastur’s orgasm hit him something fierce. He was soaking wet, sobbing with relief.

“And I love you, husband,” Ligur said, sliding in and out gently, filling him up with his cock. “I married you, didn’t I? The only demon for me in all of Hell.”

“It’s--ah! It’s only ever been you,” Hastur agreed, pulling his legs tighter in an attempt to get Ligur inside even further. Not that Ligur had any problem filling him to the brim.

“Do you want me to come inside?”

“Yes, yes, in me. In me.” Sometimes Hastur liked him to pull out and come on his face, on his cheeks and lips, but right now he wanted to feel it inside of him.

“Gonna fill you up,” Ligur said, thrusting with less control, now that he was close. He always made sure Hastur was happy, first. The best husband any demon could ask for, really.

“Ah! Oh, come, come on…” Hastur was nearly to the point of having no words left, feeling his own wetness dripping between his slender thighs.

He felt Ligur shudder, felt additional wetness flood into him, shooting up between his legs, coating his insides.

“Don’t pull out yet,” Hastur said. “Stay inside, let me keep feeling it for awhile.”

“Whatever my husband wants,” Ligur said, always content to please him. Not that Hastur asked for so very much. His needs were few.

Ligur shifted in place to better reach his mouth, kissing him deep as Hastur felt his legs tremble from keeping them in the same position for so long. He felt a little raw, vulnerable, and his insides began to feel somewhat twisty. He chalked it up to post Armageddon stress. He’d been feeling off since that all had happened. He felt infinitely better having Ligur with him, seeing him, feeling him. He’d never let anything happen to his husband again.


	2. Chapter 2

It was about five weeks later, Earth time, when Ligur found Hastur hiding away in a broom closet being sick into a mop bucket.

“Hastur?” he asked, crouching down next to him and rubbing his back. Hastur didn’t actually eat, so the only thing he was bringing up was bile, but it burned his throat and brought tears to his eyes with the force of the heaving.

“Hi,” Hastur rasped, when he finally found his voice.

“What’s wrong.”

“Dunno. I feel weird.”

“Demons aren’t meant to get ill,” Ligur said, sounding concerned. “Even with our bodies.”

“Yeah,” Hastur said, but knowing that he shouldn’t be feeling this way, and actually feeling this way, were two separate things.

“Should I try to miracle it better?” Demonic miracles weren’t generally used for healing, but they could, even if the practice was rusty.

“Please.”

Ligur concentrated, lifted his hands and snapped his fingers. “Any better?”

Hastur gagged again and bent over the bucket. That was a no, then.

“I--I think it’s m’ stomach.”

“You didn’t eat anything, did you?”

Hastur tried to respond, but his throat was raw and painful, and he shook his head.

“Should I get Dagon? Maybe there’s something in the files, about demons getting sick.”

Hastur reached out and grabbed Ligur’s sleeve, shaking his head almost violently.

“Okay, okay. I won’t tell them. I, uh, could phone Michael?”

Another drastic shake of his head.

“Beelzebub?”

Hastur moaned in pain. “Don’t. Don’t wanna give any of them the satisfaction of seeing me like this."

Ligur didn’t think anyone he’d named would find satisfaction in seeing his husband like this, but he didn’t say so. If Hastur didn’t want him to tell them, then he wouldn’t.

“Tell me what I can do, then,” he said, rubbing Hastur’s back as he heaved again and sobbed.

“Don’t leave me. Just--don’t leave me.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

Eventually Hastur was able to get to his feet, with Ligur helping him up.

“Come on,” Ligur said. “Up you get. Let’s get out of here, at least. I’ll find somewhere for you to lie down.”

“I don’t--,” Hastur said, his voice small and rough. “I don’t want anyone to stare at me.”

“Earth, then,” Ligur said. “I’ll take you to Earth, get us a hotel room.”

“Okay.”

They used their most human forms to check in to the hotel, Hastur’s frog becoming a large tattoo on his lower back, above the curve of his ass, and Ligur’s chameleon a tattoo winding cleverly around his forearm. Hastur, as a rule, refused to wear sunglasses to hide his eyes, but he didn’t tend to make eye contact with any humans, anyway.

Ligur made sure the door was locked before turning to his husband and looking him over.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked, running his hands along Hastur’s arms.

“A little. Maybe I’ll get some water, get the taste out of my mouth.”

Demons didn’t drink water, either, but Ligur wasn’t about to question him.

“Sit on the bed and I’ll bring you some,” Ligur said, with more confidence than he felt. He was out of his depth, here. The miracle hadn’t worked, and he couldn’t bear seeing Hastur looking so pitiful. He couldn’t lose his husband again. He wouldn’t.

He found a paper cup and filled it with water from the tap, and brought it back to Hastur, who was lying down on his side, his face submerged in a pillow. He looked like a blond mop from where Ligur was standing.

“Hey,” Ligur said, sitting next to him on the bed. “Can you sit up?”

Hastur did, slowly, as if his body was actively working against him.

“Stomach,” he said, taking the cup and sipping slightly, making a face.

“Should I turn the television on? Maybe you could do with a distraction,” Ligur suggested.

Hastur nodded, so Ligur found the remote and started flipping through the channels.

“Not the bloody weather channel,” Hastur complained, sounding a bit better. “Or the news.”

“Cartoons?”

Hastur made a face and shook his head. They finally settled on an old movie in black and white, and Ligur took off his coat, and then started helping Hastur with his.

Ligur had laid back against the headboard, Hastur between his legs, head on his chest, when he noticed something through Hastur’s shirt.

“Hey,” Ligur said, nudging him. “Lift up your shirt for a moment, love.”

“Sex? Now?” Hastur wondered, tilting his head to look up at him.

“No, not sex. I thought, well, maybe we better get a look at your stomach.”

“Oh, right.”

Hastur pulled his shirt up, and they both peered down.

“You’ve never glowed before, have you, love?”

“What’s happening to me?” Hastur shrieked, shuffling back against Ligur as if he could get away from his own body.


	3. Chapter 3

Hastur dug through his coat pockets frantically until he found the knife he was looking for.

“You have to cut it out of me,” he begged, trying to hand the knife over to Ligur.

“We don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s not right, is what it is!” Hastur wailed, pulling at his hair in anguish. “Cut it out of me. If you love me, you’ll--you’ll help me!”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Ligur said, taking the knife from Hastur’s wildly flailing hands. “Look at me. It’s okay. Look at me, Hastur.”

Hastur let Ligur take him by his hands and direct his gaze. “I’m bloody looking at you, now what?” Hastur said, sounding calmer by a fraction.

“Okay. Just breathe. Breathe. In and out. It’s okay. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you, okay? Breathe.”

Hastur looked panicked, but took a deep breath, and let it out as slowly as he could.

“Now, listen. We’re going to find out what’s wrong. We’re going to take it out. And we’re going to do it without me stabbing your corporation to death, okay?”

“Okay,” Hastur nodded, breaking his gaze to look down at his stomach again. “Do you think it’s a firefly?”

“Did your frog eat a bug?” Ligur suggested.

“Oh,” Hastur said, visibly becoming less tense. “Oh, that must be it. That must be it.”

Ligur smiled, and gathered Hastur back up into his arms. “It’s only a bug, then.”

“Of course. Bloody daft of me, when you think about it.”

“No wonder the healing miracle didn’t work. It must be in your digestive tract.”

“A removal miracle, then,” Hastur said. “Do it for me?”

Ligur brought his hands up and snapped. Nothing happened.

“Well, maybe you need some practice, since you came back,” Hastur said, beginning to feel sick, but this time, instead of nausea, it was dread pooling in his gut. “I’ll give it a go.”

He brought his own hands up, waited for them to stop shaking, and snapped.

Again, nothing tangible happened, but Hastur was suddenly overwhelmed with feeling.

“Did you--did you feel that?” he asked, turning to Ligur.

“What?”

It was like a humming beneath Hastur’s skin. A subtle vibration, starting at his belly and then pooling outward, upward, filling him with--

Well.

Oh.

Filling him with love.

“Ligur,” he whispered, grabbing at his hands. “Ligur, it’s not a bug at all. It’s a _baby_." 

\--

Hastur, after his revelation, was experiencing a mix of happiness and panic.

Which is how, after hours of conversation in which they went back and forth several times considering their options (not many) they wound up in Tadfield walking along a disgustingly charming little path leading up to a disturbingly quaint cottage.

“Let me knock,” Hastur said, once they were standing at the front door.

“No, let me do it,” Ligur said, trying to reach for the knocker.

“I let you go first last time and you know what happened!” Hastur screeched, pulling his hand away.

“But you’re the pregnant one.”

“I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you!”

“Well, I told you the same thing!”

“Uh, hi guys,” Crowley interrupted, stepping out of the house into the sunshine. “Any reason you’re yelling at each other on my front porch?”

Hastur screamed and leapt in front of Ligur, “Don’t you touch him, you hear me?”

“Uh. Right,” Crowley said, scratching his head. “Well, you did come to me.”

“Crowley, dear, who’s at the door?” Aziraphale said, joining their little group.

“Some, uh, old friends,” Crowley said.

“Oh. Hello.” Aziraphale took in the sight of Hastur frantically wrapping himself around Ligur. “Well, would you like to come inside?”

“It better not be a trap,” Hastur said.

“Guys, I didn’t know you were coming,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not a trap. Why, here for revenge or something?”

“No,” Ligur said. “Only to talk.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, “come along then, and I’ll get us some refreshments.”

Hastur and Ligur entered cautiously, but started to relax when they were led to a nicely furnished living room.

“I, uh, need to talk to you,” Hastur said to Crowley. Aziraphale motioned to the sofa, and Hastur sat down nervously.

“Well, go ahead then,” Crowley said.

“Alone,” Hastur continued. “Without the angel.”

“Absolutely not,” Aziraphale said. “Anything you say to my husband, you can say to me.”

“It’s a delicate matter,” Ligur said, to which Hastur made a sound of displeasure.

“Not saying you’re delicate,” Ligur said to Hastur, quickly. “But, well, what if the angel and I gave you both some privacy?” He knew it would be hard enough for Hastur to say everything, even without an angelic audience.

Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look.

Aziraphale huffed, clearly not entirely on board, but willing to go along for a bit. “Very well. Shall I show you the gardens, my dear?”

Ligur let himself be led out of the room, but not before saying to Crowley: “Not one hair on his head better be out of place when I get back. And he better still be glowing.”

“So,” Crowley said, pacing around the room. “What’s all this about, then?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What? No.” Crowley stared at him. He hadn’t been wearing his sunglasses when he’d answered the door, and now his eyes were wide. “You?”

“Don’t get all high and mighty with me, like you’re any better than me,” Hastur said, cupping the small roundness of his belly protectively. “Don’t act like you’ve never made your bits internal.”

“Well, ‘course I have, but I never do the rest--the reproductive bits.”

“Not like I did it on purpose,” Hastur mumbled. “Must’ve got carried away in the moment.”

“How exactly do you accidentally give yourself a uterus and all the rest?” Crowley asked, sitting next to him on the couch. He purposely put his hands in his own lap, even though they itched to reach out and touch. Crowley had a thing about pregnancy. Never done it for himself, obviously, but he’d always wondered...

“Dunno. Not that it makes a difference now.”

“Yeah, of course, of course. Uh, Hastur?”

“What?” Hastur replied, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Well, let’s have a look?”

“Of what, exactly? Not taking off my trousers for the likes of you.”

“No! Not...that. I mean, Ligur said you were glowing. Take off your coat at least?”

Hastur didn’t take off his coat for anyone but Ligur. It was a sort of protective layer, and right now he needed all the protection he could get. But he also needed Crowley’s help.

“I’ll unbutton it,” he said, “But no poking at me or whatever you’re thinking of.”

Crowley held his hands up in surrender. “All right, no funny business. Just a look, that’s all.”

Satisfied enough with that response, Hastur opened up his coat and tugged his shirt out of his trousers, allowing Crowley the smallest peek at his midsection. There was indeed the faintest glow beneath the skin. 

“Not very big yet, I imagine,” Hastur said softly, his palms holding himself at his sides.

“No, ‘s early,” Crowley agreed, breathless. He’d promised not to touch, so he didn’t, but seeing it made him ache uncomfortably.

“What do I do?” Hastur asked. “It’s our baby, mine and Ligur’s. What if Heaven tries to take them away?”

“But that’s why you came to me, and Aziraphale,” Crowley said. 

Hastur nodded. Feeling too exposed, he tugged his shirt back down and began doing up his coat again.

“Can’t we join your side?” Hastur asked, pleadingly. He’d never beg for anything if he could help it, especially not from Crowley, but he was out of options.

“I--I have to talk to Aziraphale. See what we can do.”

“He’s an angel still, ain’t he?” 

“Of course.”

“Then--then you have to help.”

“Hastur, I can’t promise--”

“Please.” Hastur would have got on his knees if he thought he could have managed it without making himself ill.

“I’ll do what I can.”

“You got away with everything, you and him. Your husband and your cozy little cottage and--and--” Hastur was starting to feel frantic, his voice starting to take on a hysterical edge.

“Hey, now,” Crowley said, his hand hovering over Hastur’s shoulder, but not touching, still not touching, even though the urge to comfort was starting to overtake him. “It’s--listen. Listen, it’s okay. Let me--let me go get Aziraphale and Ligur and we’ll all talk this over.”

Hastur whined and curled in on himself, hands never leaving his belly.

“I’ll be right back,” Crowley said, standing, still not touching. “Er, would you like a blanket?”

“What?”

“Here.” Crowley grabbed a soft knitted afghan that was folded over an armchair and held it out. “It’s, look, I’m going to wrap this around you.”

“Why?”

Crowley hesitated. “I, well, I used to be a nanny. Of sorts. It’s a comfort thing. Look, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Promise?”

“Look, whatever else happens, I promise. I’m not going to hurt you, or the baby, or Ligur.”

“Dunno why I’m trusting you,” Hastur murmured. “I guess I’m desperate. Give us the blanket, then.”

Crowley took great pains to be gentle while wrapping the blanket around Hastur’s shoulders. He was so tense, and Crowley knew stress wasn’t good for a baby.

“I’ll be right back. Stay put.”


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley found Aziraphale and Ligur standing beneath a tree. Ligur was smoking a cigarette. 

“Ah, there you are, dear,” Aziraphale said. “I trust everything’s all right?”

“He’s--” Crowley stopped short, not entirely sure how his angel would react. This was, after all, unprecedented. Oh, well. Might as well be blunt about it. “He’s expecting.”

“Expecting what, dear?” Aziraphale asked, blissfully unaware.

“You know. Expecting, expecting.”

“We’re having a baby,” Ligur added.

“Oh, haha. Are you all pulling a prank on me?” Aziraphale said. “As if I don’t know that’s not possible.”

“I’m not kidding, angel. He really is pregnant.”

“With what?” Aziraphale asked. He looked over to Ligur, who was watching the both of them and smoking his cigarette. 

“A baby,” Crowley said. “An actual baby.”

“But, that can’t be possible. Demons don’t have little, you know, baby demons.”

“No, of course not. It’s an angel.”

“Well, now you’re really having me on.”

“Think about it,” Crowley continued. “You can’t have a baby demon. Babies can’t rebel against God. They can’t fall.”

“Plus it’s glowing,” Ligur piped up.

“Anyway,” said Crowley, “they need our help.”

“But--but it shouldn’t be possible. A baby angel. I was never a baby. Neither were you. We were created like this.”

Apparently, Aziraphale was stuck on this idea.

“I could sense it,” Crowley said. “You will too, once you come back inside and take a moment to focus on it.”

“Ridiculous,” Aziraphale said, but followed him back inside, along with Ligur who was trailing behind them.

Hastur was curled up in his blanket where Crowley had left him, and he was lighting a cigarette. 

“No!” Crowley shouted, dashing forward and plucking the offending thing from Hastur’s hand. “Absolutely not. Don’t you know how bad smoking is for a baby?”

“It is?” Hastur asked, looking to Ligur, who shrugged.

“No smoking, and no alcohol, and no soft cheeses, and no sushi…” Crowley began to list.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said. “Sounds like a perfectly terrible time.”

“And you have to get plenty of rest, and you have to keep your stress levels down,” Crowley continued. “Stress is very bad for a baby.”

Hastur was looking very much like he wanted to put the blanket over his head and not be the center of attention, thank you very much.

Fortunately, Ligur sat down next to him and took his hand.

“Refreshments,” said Aziraphale momentarily. “I never got refreshments. Terrible hosting, I’m afraid. Back in a jiffy.” He ducked into the kitchen, leaving the three demons alone in the living room.

“What did he say?” Hastur asked. “About helping us, I mean.”

“He’ll come around,” Crowley, whose brain was picking up speed with thoughts of helping to raise a baby, an angelic baby, at that, said confidently.

“Doesn’t really grasp the situation, I think,” Ligur said.

“Well, you’re not too far along yet, either,” Crowley said, starting to pace again. “But you will be. And you’ll need someplace to raise the little one. Can’t do it in Hell. Heaven’s right out. There’s the cottage next door, of course. Plenty of space, plenty of fresh air. Children need lots of fresh air, you know.”

Hastur and Ligur, who very much didn’t know, stared at him.

“You’ll need to pick the colors for the nursery,” Crowley was saying as Aziraphale entered the room with a tray of biscuits and cucumber sandwiches. “Primary colors are good for the young ones, lots of bright colors and geometric shapes. And you’ll need a rocking chair, and as you won’t be breastfeeding, a bottle warmer in the nursery is always practical.”

“My dear, whatever are you talking about?” Aziraphale said, setting down the tray on the coffee table.

“The nursery, of course. You can’t expect them to go without one.”

Aziraphale frowned. “You expect them to actually raise a child?”

“Well, with our help--”

“That’s nonsense,” Aziraphale said firmly.

“Why?” Hastur asked, sounding defensive.

“Well, it’s--it’s never been done,” Aziraphale pointed out. “Sandwich?”

“Angel…” Crowley said, “might I have a word in the kitchen?”

“Oh, very well.” He let himself be guided from the room.

“Angels,” Ligur said once they were alone, cuddling Hastur to his side. “So strange.”

“Our baby’s one of them.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s different.”

\--

Crowley was pacing around the kitchen, wondering how he was going to get Aziraphale to understand his side of things.

“Really, shouldn’t we send them on their way?” Aziraphale was saying. “You can’t honestly think it’s a good idea to help them.”

“They came to us, angel. They want to join our side.”

“Our side’s always just been the two of us, though.”

“Yeah, but, well--what’s two more going to hurt? And baby makes five.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale gathered him up in his arms. “You did so enjoy being a nanny.”

“I thought we both enjoyed our time with Warlock.”

“Well, children grow up, dear. And besides, we’re not talking about you being a nanny again. We’re talking about, well, whatever mess those two demons have gotten themselves into.”

“It’s a beautiful mess,” Crowley mumbled into Aziraphale’s arms.

Aziraphale sighed. “It won’t do to become too attached, dear. They could be lying, after all.”

“Not about this, they aren’t,” Crowley protested. “And they need me. They need us. They don’t know anything about pregnancy, or children.”

“Because they’re not meant to have them.”

“The cottage next door is vacant,” Crowley said. “Let me do this for them. Please, angel?”

“It’s a bad idea,” he said.

“I’ve had worse ones.”

“Oh, very well. I know you won’t be happy unless I go along with it.”

Crowley smiled, shifting in place so he could kiss him. “I’ll go tell them.”


	5. Chapter 5

Hastur had closed his eyes, letting himself be held. He slept once in a while, if only for a break, but now he was actually feeling tired. He struggled with his hold on consciousness, but told himself that if he did fall asleep, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Ligur would watch out for him and keep him safe.

“So, who else knows?” Crowley asked, entering the room again. He and Aziraphale sat side by side on the sofa placed perpendicular to theirs.

Hastur kept quiet, hoping that Ligur would get the hint and answer for them.

“Only you two,” Ligur said, and started to stroke Hastur’s hair, because he was an amazing husband. Getting married was the best decision Hastur had ever made, really.

“So, we’ll have to keep Hell from finding out. I don’t expect Heaven to be much of a problem, what do you think?”

Aziraphale paused in bringing a biscuit to his lips. “Well, dear. Like I said, this is highly irregular. They wouldn’t be expecting something like this to happen, and wouldn’t be looking for it, I would think.”

“And they’ve left us alone,” Crowley continued. “Not a word since.”

“Lucky bastards,” Hastur mumbled, despite himself. He forced his eyes open, even though all he wanted at the moment was to sleep in his husband’s arms.

“How far along do you think you are?” Crowley asked, gesturing to Hastur.

“Dunno.”

“Hold that thought,” Crowley said, jumping up and rushing from the room. “Be right back.”

There was the sound of items being toppled to the floor, a minor crash, and then Crowley was stalking back into the room.

“Here we are!” he held up a book triumphantly. The title read What to Expect When You’re Expecting.

“That’s not my book,” Aziraphale said primly. “Wherever did that come from?”

“Ah, well, I kept it for reference,” Crowley said, returning to his seat. “At any rate, if your pregnancy is anything like human pregnancies, this should give us a good place to start.”

“But, my dear, none of us is human.”

Crowley frowned. “Our bodies are based on human bodies, though.”

“Technically, our corporations--”

“I’m going to be sick,” Hastur interjected, and threw up onto the carpet.

\--

A few minutes later, Hastur was nursing a cup of water, Ligur was rubbing his back, and the mess had been miracled away. Aziraphale was looking irritable, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“Have you tried eating anything?” Crowley asked, hovering near Hastur, barely restraining himself from helping him tip the cup to his lips.

“No, why would I?”

“It might do you and the baby some good. The body you’re in--the baby’s going to need nutrients.”

“Will it, though?” Aziraphale pointed out.

“Well, what’s worse?” Crowley asked. “Eating and not needing all the nutrients, or not eating and accidentally hurting the baby’s development?”

Hastur made a sound like a sob. “What? I don’t--I don’t want to hurt them.”

“And prenatal vitamins are recommended as well, if I recall correctly,” Crowley said.

Ligur snatched up the book and started flipping through it.

Hastur was looking at the biscuits, as if he was considering them. 

“Shall I get coffee for anyone?” Aziraphale suggested, getting up.

“No coffee,” Crowley said, sternly.

“That’s not what it says here,” Ligur said, holding up the book. “It says coffee in moderation.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Crowley snapped.

“I’m, uh. Okay with water,” Hastur said. He’d never had coffee, and only had a vague idea of what it was, anyway.

“First trimester,” Ligur read aloud from the book. “Seems to fit.”

“That would be my guess as well,” Crowley said, surprised to be in agreement. He’d been bracing himself for an argument.

“Look,” Ligur said, holding up the book for Hastur to see. “That’s what our baby looks like right now.”

“That’s a cashew,” Aziraphale said, looking at the same picture and remaining unimpressed. “And might I remind you, that is for a human baby. Yours may look quite different.”

Hastur didn’t respond, caught up in looking at the picture, its tiny, curved and unformed shape. Also, he didn’t know what a cashew was.

“Well, er--” Crowley looked over to his unenthused husband. Aziraphale had never been much of a fan of babies, except in the angelic way where he loved all living things. But Aziraphale tended to do better when human children were old enough to hold their own heads up and talk for themselves. One time, Crowley had caught Aziraphale trying to comfort a crying baby by saying ‘buck up, chap. It’s not all bad.’ He merely didn’t have the knack, or the patience. “Well, perhaps we’d better get your cottage sorted out first, and then we can talk about all the rest?”

Aziraphale said nothing, but looked relieved. Crowley knew he didn’t care for having his space intruded on for extended periods of time, especially not by other demons.

“I’m keeping the blanket,” Hastur said, because he felt miserable, and he was tired of asking for things. 

“All right, come on,” Crowley said, unfazed, kissed Aziraphale on the forehead, and made for the doorway.


	6. Chapter 6

Hastur was thinking he would very much like to lie down, perhaps with Ligur stroking his hair and keeping watch. Instead Ligur had his arm around his shoulders, and they were following Crowley. As if they could trust him. 

But there was no other choice, Hastur reminded himself for the hundredth time that day.

The cottages were separated by a line of trees that Crowley trekked through without a second thought, and upon arriving, he lifted the welcome mat and produced a key.

“Why do you have the key?” Ligur asked.

“Well, I, uh,” Crowley shrugged. “Bought it awhile ago. Aziraphale likes the quiet.”

“And you’re going to let us stay here?” Ligur demanded. “I know we asked for your help, but what’s the catch?”

Crowley looked uncomfortable, shifting in place. “Well, it’s not like you can raise the baby on your own.”

“And you think you’ll do a better job?” Hastur said, his hands firmly placed on his front.

“Guys, guys, it’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like?” Ligur asked.

Crowley rubbed a hand through his hair, which he’d been growing out since the last time they’d seen him.

“I helped raise a boy, you know,” Crowley said slowly. “A human boy. Warlock.”

“The one that wasn’t the Antichrist,” Hastur said. “What of it?”

“Well.” Crowley sighed. “Maybe there’s a reason you came to me.”

“Yeah, no other choices,” Hastur said, pausing to spit on the ground.

“Look, I know we have no reason to trust each other,” Crowley continued. “Stay the night in the cottage at least, and we’ll talk in the morning.”

Hastur looked to Ligur, who shrugged.

“Fine,” Hastur said, grumbling as he made his way inside.

Crowley flipped a light switch as they walked into the kitchen. There was a layer of dust on the counters, which he got rid of with a snap of his fingers. The wallpaper was a sparse floral design, and was peeling in some places. A wooden plaque on the wall read ‘Bless This Mess.’ 

“It’s not much now, but it’s a fixer upper,” Crowley said, rummaging through a cupboard and pulling out a glass. It was dusty as well, but instead of using a miracle to clean it, he began to run the tap and scrub at it with a sponge and dish soap.

Hastur sat down on one of the stools and put his elbows up on the kitchen island, scowling. Ligur began to look around, opening cupboards and the refrigerator as well.

Crowley rinsed the glass and then filled it with water, sliding it over to Hastur.

“You’re daft, you know,” Hastur said, keeping one hand on his belly as he picked up the glass and drank. 

Crowley watched him drink with far too much interest, and then abruptly turned away.

“Well, good night, then,” he said. “I’ll be off along the way, should you need anything.”

Ligur walked him to the door, locking it behind him.

Hastur was still sitting in the kitchen, sipping at his water when he walked back.

“Do you want to go lie down?” Ligur asked, rubbing at the back of Hastur’s neck with one hand.

“Dunno where the bedroom is. Could lie down here, if you keep doing that.”

Ligur pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “Come on, let’s have a look around. I’ll feel better after.”

They wandered around, peering into rooms and flipping on lightswitches. There weren’t many rooms, so it didn’t take long. Other than the kitchen, there was a small bathroom with a clawfoot tub, a living room with a floral couch covered in plastic, a laundry room slash mud room with someone’s socks still hanging off a drying rack, and the bedroom of course.

The bed was a decent size, placed up against the far wall. It was covered with a poorly put together patchwork quilt. Two lackluster pillows were sitting up against the headboard.

Hastur placed his glass of water on the bedside table and sat down, bouncing lightly to test the strength of the mattress. 

“It’ll do, I guess,” he said, feeling mentally and physically exhausted.

“Do you want to get undressed?” Ligur suggested.

“Nah. Might have to leave quickly. Wouldn’t chance it.”

“Take off your shoes and coat, at least. I’ll rub your back for you.”

Hastur sighed, letting Ligur help him take off his outerwear. The humming under his skin was even more noticeable when it was quiet. He’d never imagined something like this. Outside the window, he heard cicadas.

He laid on his side, careful not to put any pressure on his stomach. Could he hurt it? Would he, if he didn’t eat, like Crowley said?

“Do you have that book?” Hastur asked, as Ligur rubbed his back.

“Yeah. I put it in my coat pocket.”

“Read it to me. We’re taking care of the baby, not that flash bastard.”

“Of course.” Ligur kissed him before grabbing the book and opening it in his lap. “It’s ours, yours and mine.”

\--

In the cottage across the way, Crowley was on his knees, his mouth full of Aziraphale’s cock.

“That’s good, my dear,” Aziraphale said, tugging on his hair. He did so enjoy that it was getting longer. He could really get a proper fist full, now. “That’s very good.”

Crowley squirmed, pushing forward to take him deeper, putting his all into it. 

“Now, now,” Aziraphale said, pulling out and letting his cock slap wetly against his cheek. “I think we agreed that I would fuck your mouth exactly how I wanted. Isn’t that right, darling?”

Crowley nodded, color blooming over his cheeks from Aziraphale’s words.

“Open up, dear,” Aziraphale said, tapping the head of his cock against Crowley’s lips. Crowley opened up immediately, but didn’t move forward, instead letting Aziraphale push into him, controlling the depth. “That’s it. You’re perfect, absolutely perfect like this.”

Crowley let Aziraphale guide him, opening up, receptive to whatever his lover wanted. Aziraphale usually wanted to come down his throat, but this time he pulled away, coming over Crowley’s face, watching Crowley’s snake eyes blink in surprise. One rather larger drop fell against his upper lip, and he lapped it up without a second thought.

“That was wonderful, my dear,” Aziraphale said. He glanced at the mess that Crowley was, come dripping down his face, his own cock hard between his legs. “Take care of yourself tonight, won’t you?”

“Angel,” Crowley whined, palming at his erection and getting up off his knees. “At least give me a hand?”

Aziraphale looked like he was thinking about it. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking that I indulge you a little too often.”

“You’re killing me,” Crowley said, climbing up on the bed where Aziraphale was sitting and watching him. “You’re killing your own husband, did you know?”

“So dramatic.” Aziraphale looked contemplative, even as Crowley thrust desperately into his own hand. “I suppose I could be persuaded to do something.”

_“Angel.”_

“Lie back and spread your legs.”

Crowley did so, eagerly, and whimpered as he felt Aziraphale’s lubed fingers against his entrance, beginning to press. He took himself in hand, moaning as he felt himself be penetrated by one finger, and then a second one almost immediately after.

“Come on, then,” Aziraphale said. “Go ahead, my darling.”

The demon was covered in fluids by the time he was done coming. He still had semen on his face, and now all across his front as well.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Crowley groaned, getting up from the bed, careful not to make a mess on the comforter. Aziraphale merely miracled his fingers clean.

“Don’t be long, dear,” Aziraphale said, settling back amongst his nest of comfortable pillows, reaching for the book that he’d put aside before things had started to get interesting. He didn’t bother getting dressed.


	7. Chapter 7

Hastur had slept in fits and bursts, while Ligur had held him and stayed on alert. Ligur had read to Hastur until he was too drowsy to listen any longer, and then Ligur had continued reading to himself. It was a thick book, filled with things that both amazed and worried him. Ligur read about all of the terrible complications that could happen with human pregnancies. Could that happen to Hastur? So many things had happened so far that weren't supposed to happen to a demon. 

Ligur glanced up from his reading to see the early morning sunshine peeking in through the window. The thin, pale pink curtains didn't do much to block out the light. As if he didn't already have enough to worry about, he knew he'd have to check in downstairs soon enough. At least he was good at lying. It was practically expected of him. 

Could they really join Crowley and Aziraphale's side? Would Hell really let them be? And did he really even want to set himself apart like that? Ligur enjoyed being a demon. He'd fallen with style, he and Hastur both, following Lucifer's lead and joining the rebellion headstrong and willing. They'd each gotten the title of Duke for their hard work and loyalty. He got along with Dagon, although he didn't share their flare for paperwork. And he had a mutual respect thing going with Beelzebub. But he'd always put Hastur above everyone else, and if he had to turn his back on Hell, then he would without a backward glance. They'd been together since the very beginning, after all.

Hastur stirred next to him, his dark eyes opening and searching him out.

"Hey," Hastur said, his voice rough.

Ligur reached for the glass of water on the night stand and handed it over. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been tortured in every circle of Hell and then hit by a truck," Hastur admitted.

Ligur frowned. "It's not fair, you having to go through this. If we could do it over, I'd do the pregnancy thing."

Hastur snorted. "If I'd known what I was doing, neither of us would have this problem."

"Well," Ligur said, making a face. "I don't like that word. _Problem_."

"Oh?"

"Every demon in Hell would call me soft for saying this, but I'm more than a little happy about having a baby with my husband."

"Bollocks to anyone else, then," Hastur said fiercely, sitting up and taking Ligur's hand. "I'd like to see anyone try to say a word against you without quaking in fear over what I'd do to 'em."

"Only wish it weren't so hard on you."

"Well, that prissy angel was right about one thing. I don't think our bodies were meant for this."

"I don't think it's much easier for humans either, according to this," Ligur said, holding up the book.

"How far did you get?" Hastur asked, looking at how it was opened to the midway point.

"I read it through once already. Now I'm going back to reread. You know, studyin'."

"Anything important?"

"Lots. Not sure how much of it will apply, but it's the only lead we have so far."

"You mentioned Dagon's files before," Hastur said.

"Yeah, before we knew what was happening. So?"

"So, what if there is something in there? What if this isn't the first time this has happened?"

"What are you saying? You know I can't ask them. And they're the only one who knows the whole file system. You'd have the baby before I'd be able to make sense of it."

"Well, if you asked in a roundabout sort of way…"

"You don't think they'd be suspicious? I've never asked to see the files. I never had a reason to."

"Right." Hastur slumped a little.

"Well, let's think on it. I'm not saying no. I'm saying we have to be careful."

"'Course."

A sudden banging on the front door made Hastur startle. "What in Satan's name…"

Ligur rolled his eyes as he made his way to the door to see the nuisance himself. Crowley’s slim figure was weighed down with shopping bags as he stood on the porch and looked at Ligur, hope writ in his expression.

“What?” Ligur snapped, folding his arms across his impressive chest and radiating intimidating vibes. It wouldn’t do to let Crowley think he was running the show.

Crowley shifted forward, expecting Ligur to step aside and let him through. Ligur held his ground.

“Oh, come on. Peace offering?” Crowley said, hefting up one bag-laden arm.

“We agreed to talk today. That’s it. You know we don’t trust you.”

“I brought cinnamon buns,” Crowley wheedled.

“Am I meant to know what that means?”

“At least let me show you what I got for Hastur before you reject it all,” Crowley huffed.

“You got me things?” Hastur said from behind his husband. He’d put his coat and shoes back on and trailed after him. “Like what?”

“It’s easier to show you,” Crowley said, opening up one of the bags and giving them an enticing peek inside.

“Oh, let him in, Ligur,” Hastur said, feeling tired and irritable. “You know he won’t let us be until we do.”

“The angel’s not with you?” Ligur asked.

“He’s reading in the garden. This isn’t really his...forte.”

“Well, all right,” Ligur said, moving aside to let him pass. The odds were in their favor, at least.

Crowley made his way to the kitchen, setting his various bags on the counter and waiting until Hastur was sat on one of the barstools to begin. Ligur was instantly reminded of Crowley’s presentations in Hell. All he was missing was a projector.

“First of all, cinnamon buns,” Crowley said, procuring a white pastry box. He set it in front of Hastur and opened the lid. “Help yourself.”

“This is meant to help the baby?” Hastur said, disbelieving.

“Well, it’s mostly carbs, but I thought it might be easier to start with something sweet.”

“Smells weird,” Ligur said.

“Well, there’s other options, of course. But try them, at least?”

Hastur looked dubious, but reached inside the box.

“Wait!” Ligur said, snatching the box away at the last moment. “I’ll try them first.”

“No, you don’t,” Hastur said, grabbing it back. “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me.”

“You’re carrying our child. It should be me that goes first to make sure it’s all right.”

“I won’t let you,” Hastur wailed, slamming the box shut and effectively squashing the top of it.

“Uh, it’s not poison, you know. It’s a pastry,” Crowley put in.

“Shut up, Crowley,” Hastur growled. “We never asked for your--your weird human things! All we wanted was a bit of refuge.”

“Yeah,” Ligur agreed. He thrust the box back at Crowley, who took it and set it aside.

“Not a fan of cinnamon buns, then. I’ll make a note of that.” Crowley swallowed nervously. “Ah, well. Moving on then. Some ginger tea? It’s meant to help with nausea.”

He held out the box of teabags.

“That smells weird, too,” Hastur said.

“Well, that’s the thing with food and beverages,” Crowley explained cautiously. “They’re going to have a scent to them, for the most part. Ginger’s a root, you know.”

“There’s a root in there?” Ligur asked.

“Well, no. It’s made from a root. Shall I put the kettle on? You’re okay with water, so maybe this will be a safer bet. And look, I’ll drink some first, so you’ll know it’s safe. How’s that sound?”

“Well, as long as you drink some first,” Ligur said. “No shenanigans.”

“Okay! Progress!” Crowley sashayed over to the stove happily, grabbed the kettle and filled it with water from the sink, and then set it back on the stove to boil.

“Now, while we’re waiting for that, let me show you the rest.”

Crowley pulled out three different brands of prenatal vitamins, an array of groceries which he put into the fridge, peppermint candies, two boxes of saltine crackers, peppermint tea, a back support pillow, five books on pregnancy, all different from the one they already had, a stretchy pair of tracksuit bottoms, a book titled Designs for Baby Rooms, a bottle warmer and a set of bottles, a pacifier, and a fancy box of chocolates.

“Oh, those are for Aziraphale, actually,” Crowley said, tucking the chocolates aside.

Hastur looked at the whirlwind of items that surrounded him. He could not have looked less impressed if he tried. “Why are you like this?”

The kettle whistled, and Crowley poured three cups of tea, sipping from his first as discussed. Hastur and Ligur watched him with rapt attention, waiting for him to fall down dead. Hastur was only half disappointed when he didn’t.

“These things are all necessities,” Crowley insisted, after setting down his teacup. “And this is only the tip of the iceberg. Pregnant people and babies need things and care. You’ll see.”

“Well, we ain’t saying thank you,” Hastur said. “You’re exhausting.”

Crowley waved a hand in dismissal. “Yes, yes. Anyhow, I’d better get back. Come for dinner around six o’clock and we’ll all talk, okay?”

“Yes, fine,” Hastur said.

Crowley didn’t make a move to leave, but instead shuffled his feet. “Have you, you know, looked in on the baby today?”

Ligur came to stand in front of Hastur. “Getting a little over-concerned with my husband, aren’t you?”

“Well, I--I--” Crowley stuttered and scowled. He grabbed the box of chocolates off the counter. “Whatever. Come for dinner at six or don’t, see if I care.”

He stormed out. Ligur braced for the slam of the door, but it never came. He’d closed it gently after himself.

“Well, what do you think of all that?” Ligur asked.

Hastur sipped at the tea. It was warm, and seemed to help. “Dunno. But I want to lie down again. That pillow don’t look half bad.”


	8. Chapter 8

Aziraphale was sitting with his legs stretched out on a soft tartan blanket underneath a tree in the garden. He had a book open in his lap, and a mimosa in his hand.

Crowley stomped up to him and collapsed by his side. He waited for Aziraphale to take notice of his bad mood and coddle him. He could use a good coddling.

Aziraphale took a sip of his mimosa and turned a page in his book.

“Angel…” Crowley said, leaning against him meaningfully.

“Yes, dear?”

Crowley sighed. He hated asking for what he wanted. And Aziraphale loved making him ask. “Nothing.”

“Oh, well, if it’s nothing, darling, I’m sure you’ll be all right.” He flipped another page.

Crowley supposed he only had himself to blame, as per usual. What did he expect, for Hastur to pull up his shirt at a moment’s notice and say, ‘here, go ahead, have a look, put your hand on it even, see if you can feel it’? He should be more bloody careful. The last thing he wanted was to alienate them so badly that they left. Aziraphale would be relieved, of course, but this wasn’t about him, for once.

“They’re infuriating,” Crowley said, setting himself up for a good venting session.

Unfortunately, Aziraphale was not having it. “They needn’t be here at all, you know.”

“But--”

“You were well aware of their proclivities before you moved them next door, were you not?”

“Yes, but--”

“Perhaps a drive, to clear your head, then,” Aziraphale said, draining the last of his mimosa. He looked at Crowley expectantly.

“Would you like a refill before I go, angel?” Crowley sighed, taking the glass.

“Oh, would you? That would be _lovely_.”

\--

Hastur loved the pillow. It was soft and firm at the same time, and helped support him so he could lay on his side without worrying about putting pressure on his front.

“I should go out for a quick temptation, at least,” Ligur was saying. He was stood in the bedroom, placing all the new books carefully on the nightstand.

“I’ll come with you.” Hastur unwrapped himself from the blanket with a groan and stood up.

Ligur frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Ligur looked pointedly at his belly. “Do you think it’s all right, with the baby?”

Hastur blinked. “Well, I don’t know, do I?”

“Well, you said you could feel it.”

“Yeah. Under my skin. Feels like, well, you know. Love.”

“Love and light,” Ligur mused. “Well, what if you came along, and I did some tempting, and if you feel anything different, you’ll go?”

“Yeah. Don’t wanna hurt the little one.”

Ligur had to kiss him then, full on the lips and cradling his head in his hands. “I won’t let anything happen to you, either of you,” he said, pulling away. “Let me see?”

“You don’t have to ask, husband,” Hastur said, pushing his shirt out of the way and grabbing Ligur’s hand to let it rest on top of the tiny glow.

“That’s ours,” Ligur gasped. “Feels like--like I can’t describe it.”

Ligur got down on his knees, looking up at Hastur’s belly before placing a kiss there. “Hello,” he said. “Don’t worry. We’re going to take good care of you.”

“Yeah, we will,” Hastur agreed, blinking back tears. “Come on, off your knees. We’ve got work to do, don’t we?”

Ligur placed one last kiss to the exposed skin and then got up, protectively pulling Hastur’s shirt down for him.

“Well, let’s head out, then.”

\--

Ligur picked the location, a nice spot near a cafe where politicians liked to come with their mistresses. They lurked in the back, waiting for the right person to come along.

“I liked that tea,” Hastur murmured.

“Did you?”

“It wasn’t bad at all. Made my insides all warm.”

“What about the food, then?” Ligur asked. A man walked by, and Ligur planted a seed of destruction into his thoughts.

“Dunno. I guess I’ll find out later. Crowley did ask us to dinner.”

“You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to.”

“I bloody know that,” Hastur said, biting his lip. “But, what if he’s right?”

“Crowley?”

“Yeah.”

“Eating can’t be all that terrible. That angel does it.”

“Crowley’s _precious husband_ ,” Hastur mocked, bitterly.

Ligur stirred up a rift between a couple walking by, hand in hand. After they walked a few steps away, their hands separated.

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of course I am. Aren’t you? That bastard got away with murder, and then has the gall to reject our side to play house with--with another bastard. And now he thinks, because we need his help, he can do whatever he wants?”

“He can’t do whatever he wants,” Ligur said, wrapping his arms around him. “Not to us, he can’t.”

“Hey, aren’t you meant to be tempting?” Hastur asked, smiling.

“That’s a shame, then, because I’ve got my hands full right now.”

“Maybe we should go back and try out that bed?” Hastur let his hand trail down and rub against Ligur’s crotch.

“Getting me excited on the job, love?” Ligur pulled him closer, and whispered in his ear. “I should spank you for that.”

Hastur’s breath quickened, his dark eyes going wide and round. “Oh.”

Demonic miracles were definitely meant for teleporting into bedrooms, which is exactly what they did. They made quick work of their clothes, and laid down on the bed, unable to keep their hands off each other. 

“Fuck me in the ass, this time, okay?” Hastur said between kisses. He was lying on his back, legs open, already feeling desire sparking in the space between them. “I don’t want to get pregnant again.”

“You can’t,” Ligur said. He kissed down Hastur’s chest, all the way down to his soaking wet cunt. “You can only get pregnant one at a time. I read it in that book.”

“What about pairs of humans, though?”

“Twins?” Ligur kissed in between his legs, making Hastur gasp. “That’s--that’s different.”

“How? Ah!”

Ligur lapped at his clit like the sweet thing it was, making Hastur grasp at the sheets and moan. He got a finger inside, holding his hips still with his other broad hand, keeping him right where he wanted him as he licked him until he was gasping with pleasure and gushing through his first orgasm.

“Are--are you sure?” Hastur squirmed in place as Ligur fingered his cunt slowly.

“Yeah.”

Hastur looked uncertain.

“But, if you’d rather take it in the ass tonight, it’s no problem for me,” Ligur grinned.

“Yeah,” Hastur said, his nerves thrumming with need. “Yeah, do that.”

The look Ligur gave him was positively fiendish, as he dipped his tongue below his cunt and licked at his asshole.

“Ah!”

Ligur could bring him to pieces with his mouth, and that’s what he did, lapping broad strokes around his rim and tonguing his hole, getting him wet and relaxed.

“Lube--” Hastur stuttered. “Come on, fuck me.”

“Come once more for me, first,” Ligur said, waiting for Hastur’s breathless agreement before diving back in, his tongue working its way in, and this time he began rubbing his clit with his fingers as well, teasing at him until his trembling body gave up another shuddering climax.

“Haven’t even touched your dick, yet,” Hastur complained.

“I’m already so hard for you,” Ligur said, finding the bottle of lube and settling back in between Hastur’s legs. “Lie back and let me take care of you.”

Hastur kept his prostate no matter what genitals he had at the time, and Ligur didn’t waste any time working him open, dribbling lube over his fingers and urging two of them in until he found it.

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Hastur cried out. 

Ligur fingered him for what felt like _ages_ before finally lining up his cock and pressing into him, little by little. It was an impressive cock, and the preparation had been entirely necessary. Hastur was stuffed full, and it was all he could do to lie there and moan. Ligur lifted his thighs and held them as he began to thrust, fucking into his ass steadily, filling him up each time he moved forward.

“Pound me,” Hastur whimpered, his hands scrabbling to reach the headboard.

“I don’t wanna be too rough.”

“Touch me, then,” Hastur begged. “Feels too good. I need--I need to come again.”

“Yeah, you do,” Ligur agreed, reaching between them to play with his sweet little clit. “I wanna make you feel it.”

Hastur’s eyelashes fluttered as he came again, writhing and wailing as he reached the edge of pleasure and crashed over it. Ligur pulled out and stroked himself to completion, splashing over Hastur’s thigh with a groan. They were kissing, then, caught up in the euphoria of being in synchrony. Hastur couldn’t stop himself from climbing on top of him, straddling Ligur, his legs to either side, each kiss only making him desire more.

“You’re trouble,” Ligur said. “You make me want you too much.”

“You love it,” Hastur said, pressing their lips together. “You love me.”


	9. Chapter 9

“How’s dinner coming along, dear?” Aziraphale asked, wandering into the kitchen.

“It’s ready, keeping warm until they show. If they decide to show, anyway.”

Aziraphale hummed as if he didn’t care one way or another. “Bend over the table, then, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Angel…” He turned and placed his hands on the wood surface of the kitchen table.

“Yes, dear one?”

“I--.” Crowley’s voice faltered as he felt Aziraphale shoving his jeans and underwear down to his knees, and then toying with the plug that was seated between his cheeks, keeping him open. Aziraphale had put it in hours ago. “You’re not going to, to make me wear this during dinner?”

“Oh, dear. Of course I am. Then, I think, I shall have you afterwards.”

“It’s maddening,” Crowley whimpered.

“And you’re being so good to take it,” Aziraphale agreed. He began to move the plug in and out by the base, making Crowley’s legs shake so that he leaned forward even further to support himself.

“Won’t you fuck me now?” Crowley offered. “You could fuck me now, fill me up with your come and plug me back up. You know you can fuck me again later.”

“Oh, tempting today, are we? You’ll have to try a little harder than that, I think.”

Crowley let his head fall down onto the table with a thunk. He then reached back with both hands and spread his own cheeks, offering himself up. “I’ll hold myself open for you the whole time. I won’t even think about touching myself. Please, angel.”

“What a lovely sight that is,” Aziraphale said, pushing the plug all the way back in. “Very lovely, indeed. You do know what I like to see.”

“Please?”

“Ah, but it’s nearly six now. If only we weren’t expecting company,” Aziraphale said, and patted him consolingly on the bottom. “You’d better make yourself decent. Up you get.”

Crowley gave him a betrayed look, but pulled his underwear and jeans back up, trying his best to ignore the way the plug felt as he righted himself.

\--

Hastur and Ligur stomped across the grass, hand in hand. Hastur kicked at a begonia. 

"Better not be trying to get us to eat those cinna-whatsits again," Hastur grumbled.

"Yeah, better not, if he knows what's good for 'im."

They knocked on the door, and Crowley answered, sweat on his brow. "Hi, guys."

"You know we're not guys, yeah?" Ligur said, his hand on Hastur's arm as they entered.

"Just an expression. Come on, come sit."

Crowley led them to the dining table, which he and Aziraphale never used, but Aziraphale insisted on having anyway. The angel liked to say it was in case of having guests over for dinner, but the truth was this was the first time they'd had any guests at all.

Hastur and Ligur sat next to each other, looking around the room.

"Where's what's his face, then?" Hastur asked.

"Oh, he'll be down in a moment. How are you feeling?"

"Annoyed," Hastur said. He picked up the water glass in front of him and switched it with the one in front of Crowley before taking a sip.

"Well, look, I'm trying to help, as much as you don't believe it," Crowley said, taking a pointed sip of water from the glass that had been in front of Hastur. "And I'm not trying to poison you. I'd never hurt a child."

"You're still annoying," Hastur pointed out.

Crowley wriggled in his seat, trying and failing to hide a wince.

"What's wrong with you?" Ligur asked.

"Nothing, nothing. Bloody angel…" Crowley murmured under his breath.

"Ah, hello," Aziraphale greeted, coming into the room to stand behind Crowley, placing a proprietary hand on his shoulder. "And how are you two fairing this evening?"

Hastur shrugged, uncomfortable with the whole politeness thing the angel exuded.

"Well, I suppose we should get started with dinner, then, shall we?"

He sat down and placed a cloth napkin across his lap.

Hastur watched with mild interest as he was presented with a plate full of food.

"Have you tried the prenatal vitamins yet?" Crowley asked.

Before Hastur could answer, Aziraphale placed a hand on his arm and gave him a look. "Now, dear, don't you think we should give them a chance to eat before you bombard them with questions?" The angel raised a bite to his lips. "Of course, as I was saying earlier, there's really no reason we should force them to endure our company. They may be perfectly happy to stay across the way without us having to ever see one another."

Hastur frowned. "Wait just a bloody minute…" he started.

"Yes?" Aziraphale answered, his eyebrows raised, his countenance the picture of innocence.

"I don't like what you're insinuating," Hastur said finally.

"Oh?" Aziraphale picked up a bottle of wine that hadn't been there before and began to pour himself a glass, which also hadn't been there before.

"Really, angel," Crowley said. "I thought we'd agreed to pass up the alcohol for once."

"I'm not pregnant," Aziraphale said primly. "I don't see why I should abstain."

"Look, we'll be on our way if he don't want us here," Hastur said.

Crowley looked like he was close to ripping out his own hair in frustration. "At least have a bite of something, first. It's the best advice I've got for right now."

Ligur looked to Hastur and squeezed his hand. "Maybe we should tell him your theory," he said in a low voice.

"Why?"

"The angel might know something. Might be willing to bargain for the info."

"What, exactly, might I know?" Aziraphale asked before tipping his glass to his lips.

"Well, what if--what if--," Hastur stuttered, unhappy at being put on the spot all of a sudden.

"What if this isn't the first time something like this has happened," Ligur finished for him. "And what if there's more info, in files or something. If it's happened."

"I've already told you, it hasn't."

"Well, do you know for sure, or are you just saying that because you've never heard of it happening?" Ligur continued, undeterred.

"Well, I, er, I'm sure Heaven would keep track of this sort of occurrence, if it happened, which it hasn't."

"Would you really know?" Crowley asked, watching the conversation unfold around him with barely subdued delight. "Or would it be one of those things She would keep a secret?"

"Well," Aziraphale huffed, irritated that both his dinner and worldview were being interrupted. "Well."

"I think you've got to agree to help now, angel," Crowley said, pouring himself a celebratory glass of wine with a flourish. "Don't you think?"

"Well," Aziraphale said once more, raising his glass. "To our own side, I suppose."

Crowley clinked their glasses together and they drank.

Beneath the table, Ligur placed a gentle hand on Hastur's belly.

"Now," Crowley said, bringing his attention round to the pregnant demon once again. "Try a bit of tomato, won't you? It's fresh from the garden. Organic."

\----

After the world's third most awkward dinner was finished, and Hastur and Ligur had said good night, or rather, good riddance, Aziraphale had wasted no time in pulling Crowley into their bedroom, undressing him, and guiding him to lie on his front on their bed.

"I have been endlessly patient today," Aziraphale said, tying Crowley’s hands to the bedposts.

“You? What about, what about me?” Crowley said, craning his head to the side so he could glare at him. “I’ve had this thing in me all day.”

“And you’ve done so well, darling.”

Crowley let his head fall back down onto the bed. His ass had been stretched open and full and ready to be fucked for what felt like ages. 

“Now, as I was saying,” Aziraphale continued, tugging on the rope he’d used to make sure it was secure. “I’ve been very patient with you, don’t you think?”

Apparently he wanted an answer.

“Yeah?” Crowley said, testing the rope himself and squirming. It was tied tightly indeed.

“If you’re not going to answer sincerely, I might as well gag you,” Aziraphale sighed.

“No, wait--what was the question?” Crowley whined. “Yes, you’ve been patient, I’ve been patient, please, angel.”

“Anyway,” Aziraphale said pointedly. “I think I’ve allowed you too much free rein, and as such, you need to be reined in.”

“Angel?”

“Don’t interrupt, dear. Now,” He moved between Crowley’s legs that were sprawled on the bed, and nudged at his thighs until Crowley was up on his knees. “What do you say we shorten your leash?”

Without waiting for an answer, Aziraphale pulled the plug out with one fluid movement, causing Crowley to gasp.

“What, what do you want me to do, angel?”

“Oh, a good many things, I imagine,” Aziraphale answered, infuriatingly. “But as for now, I’d like you to be obedient and let me have you just how I want you.”

“Take me, then,” Crowley said, aware of what a picture he must be, hands bound, face down, his well lubed and prepped ass on display.

He felt Aziraphale’s cock against his hole, pushing in, filling him back up. The plug hadn’t been so big, and he felt himself clench around it as Aziraphale began to fuck him in earnest. It was almost a kindness to take it like this, as his only responsibility was to stay on his knees and receive what he was given. He gasped and mouthed at the cotton sheets beneath him as Aziraphale thrust into him over and over.

“You’re always so tight, darling,” Aziraphale commented from above, giving an especially hard thrust that made Crowley cry out. “Perhaps a bigger plug next time, no?”

“Whatever you _want_ ,” Crowley moaned. “Please. Ohhh…”

“That’s it, that’s wonderful,” Aziraphale was saying. “You don’t need to think about it, do you? Just do as you're told. That’s it.”

“...Guh…” 

“Now, I don’t think I’ll touch your pretty little cock tonight, but you may come from being fucked in your hole, if you like.”

Crowley nodded against the sheets, too far gone to respond verbally. He felt his orgasm build, letting it rest on the edge of his consciousness while he felt Aziraphale’s cock driving into him. He could come on command, whenever he liked, so he waited, letting the pleasure reach a crescendo before releasing.

Aziraphale spilled into him some time after, and then Crowley’s hands were being released, and Aziraphale was pulling him into his lap and kissing him.

“I’m leaking,” Crowley pointed out between kissing back, knowing how fussy his angel was about their sheets.

“Yes, yes. I’ll clean you up all in good time, now let me kiss you, dear.”


	10. Chapter 10

“I should head down and report to the office,” Ligur was saying. Hastur was sitting in the kitchen, sipping a mug of tea and attempting to nibble on a saltine cracker. The nausea seemed to ebb and flow, and he never knew how he was going to wake up feeling on a day to day basis. They’d been staying in the cottage for three weeks now, so Ligur was right, they really did need to turn in their reports before their absence was noted.

“You’re sure I shouldn’t come with?” Hastur said miserably. He’d never spent so much time on Earth before, at least, not all at once. Was he going soft, going native? He’d better not be.

“You’ve signed your name to half these temptations. We agreed I’d cover for you. And you’re glowing more and more every day. And you smell different.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the reasons why I shouldn’t go.” He crushed the saltine in his fist and let the crumbs fall onto the plate. 

Ligur frowned, setting down his pile of folders to walk over to Hastur and hold his hands. 

“I don’t like seeing you like this.”

Hastur shrugged, feeling irritable. His body was aching, the nausea was overwhelming, and all he wanted was to go down to Hell and have a good time. He might have been a little bit homesick, in fact. Instead he was stuck up here, in bloody Tadfield, not even able to smoke a cigarette. The only other demon around was Crowley, and all he ever wanted to do was talk about the baby and treat Hastur like he was made of glass.

“Get used to it,” Hastur said bitterly, pulling his hands away.

“Are you really that unhappy, love?” Ligur asked, pressing a hand to the side of Hastur’s face. 

“What’s it matter if I am? There’s nothing for it.”

“It matters to me. Come on, talk to me.” Ligur gave him a smile.

Hastur whined, and threw his hands around Ligur’s shoulders, hanging off of him like a tree frog. “Everything’s too much. I miss Hell. I miss scarin’ other demons and havin’ them run outta my way because they’re terrified of me. I miss not bein’ pregnant so I could smoke and cause destruction and get fucked real hard.”

Ligur held onto him easily, pressing a kiss to the side of his face. “You can still cause destruction, can’t ya?”

“Not directly. It’s not the same tellin’ you what to destroy.”

“You could try it yourself. You still haven’t tried.”

“Because I’m bloody worried,” Hastur admitted. “Call me a soft fuckin’ idiot but I don’t wanna do anything that could--that could--”

“I know you don’t want to take chances with the baby. You’re not an idiot, you’re my husband, of course you take care of what’s yours.”

“You--you and the baby.”

“I don’t have to go today,” Ligur said, picking Hastur up all the way and carrying him to the living room. He sat them both down on a sofa, Hastur fitting easily in his lap. The rounded crest of his stomach was still barely noticeable underneath his clothes, if you didn’t know what to look for. “It can wait.”

“No. We can’t keep putting it off.”

Ligur started rubbing his thighs. “I can fuck you harder, tonight, if that’s what you want.”

“You’re so gentle with me, now.”

“You never complained when I was gentle before.” Ligur worked his hand into the back of Hastur’s trousers and gave his pert little bottom a squeeze.

“You won’t even let me get on my knees to suck you, though.”

“Miss that, do you?” Ligur grinned, kissing Hastur’s ear, and then giving the lobe a quick little nip.

“I wanna make you feel good. I like it. I’m good at it.”

“Never said you weren’t.”

“Let me suck you now.” Hastur kissed him on the lips, and made as if to move, but Ligur held on tight.

“Later, okay? After I come back, I’ll give you what you need, okay?”

Hastur scowled, so that Ligur had to kiss him until he stopped. It wasn’t a hardship for either of them.

“Fine, go, leave me here in this dump,” Hastur said, finally wriggling free and standing up.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Ligur said meaningfully.

Hastur walked him to the door. “If it comes down to it--” he started.

“Stop.”

“But--”

“It will be fine. Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say.”

Hastur tried to blink back tears that threatened to fall. How did Ligur know it was going to be okay, when everything wasn’t okay before? He’d lost him, and he’d had to watch as he’d lost him. Ligur didn’t know what it was like, having to be the one left behind. Having to watch your own husband dissolve in front of your eyes. Hastur would gladly trade places, if there was any sort of choice.

“Hey,” Ligur said, wrapping him up in his arms. “None of that.”

“Can’t help it.” It was in his nature to turn to tears when his emotions were cranked up to eleven.  
It was the sort of watery, amphibious kind of thing that happened to him, and he really couldn’t stop it from happening once it started.

“I will come back,” Ligur said. He fished the chain Hastur wore around his neck out of his shirt and held up the ring. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

“Go on, then. To Hell with you.” Hastur smiled, grabbing his ring back possessively. It never left his chain, and the chain never left his neck.

Ligur had grabbed the stack of files and turned on his heel, leaving Hastur to fret to himself. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be left alone, but that he really didn’t like it. All his worries seemed to pile up on him, and without Ligur there to reassure him, the stack would get bigger and bigger until it collapsed on top of him.

He trudged over to Crowley and Aziraphale’s cottage and kicked at the door until Aziraphale answered.

“Yes, dear boy?” Aziraphale said, looking him up and down, with a judgemental sort of gaze that made Hastur feel like he’d been weighed and measured and found wanting.

“Where’s Crowley?” he growled.

“Not here at the moment, I’m afraid.”

“What?” Hastur was suddenly thrown through a loop. He hadn’t expected Crowley to not be there. Crowley was always there, gardening, or popping over with ‘helpful hints’, or other annoying Crowley things. Where the devil was he? “Ain’t you two attached at the hip, or whatsit?”

"We very much are not. Is that all?”

Hastur hated the tone of dismissal in the angel’s voice. He hated even more that he did not want to go back to the cottage alone, and deal with his worries, alone.

“Well, can I come inside?”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to look thrown. “Oh, ah, yes, come inside, if you like.”

He was too polite to tell him to leave, outright, and that was a weakness. Hastur could feel a bit better about himself now, knowing that he was making the angel’s day a bit worse with his presence.

Aziraphale brought him into the sitting room. “Well,” he began, “I’m really not sure what time Crowley’s meant to be back, but we could ring him on his mobile, if it’s an emergency.”

Hastur sat down, looking around the room. It was the same as the last time he’d been there, except now there was a large pile of books sitting on the coffee table. He reached forward and picked one up. He caught Aziraphale’s accompanying wince in the corner of his eye. Good.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing you’d be interested in, I’m sure. Here,” and Aziraphale held out his hand expectantly, looking like he desired nothing more than to swoop in and save all his books from the big bad demon sitting on his couch.

Hastur opened the book, and heard Aziraphale’s audible gasp. 

“Poetry?” he asked.

“Well, yes. Are you a fan?” Aziraphale sat down next to him, politely, with enough space between them for a third body to fit.

“No,” Hastur said honestly. “Garbage, innit?”

Aziraphale turned a delightful shade of pink. “Well, I couldn’t possibly expect you to appreciate it.”

“...What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, my dear, it’s a rather high art--”

“And a lowly demon can’t understand, is that right?”

Aziraphale turned even pinker, and looked as if he wanted to say some very impolite words indeed.

“Well,” he started, shifting in his seat. “Anyway, it’s not important. Would you like something to drink, perhaps?”

“No, I want to know what you meant,” Hastur continued, flipping the pages of the book menacingly. “Anything you can understand, so can I. No need to be a stuck up bastard about it.”

“Oh, that’s not what I intended, really--”

Hastur slammed down the book. “Whatever. Dunno what Crowley sees in you. You’re not even nice.”

“Oh, now, that’s just rude,” Aziraphale said. “Crowley has been nothing but welcoming to you.”

“You haven’t. You want us gone. You’re not--not gonna tell the other angels on us, are you?” Hastur spoke softly now, voicing one of the worries that had been buzzing around his head like a fly he couldn’t catch.

“I don’t talk to the other angels these days, actually,” Aziraphale answered, sounding almost sad, sounding defeated. “So no, I wouldn’t do that. You needn’t be troubled.”

“Ligur talks to Michael,” Hastur said, unsure what to do with the conversation, now that Aziraphale had stopped being so polite.

“Indeed?”

“I talk to her too, sometimes. She don’t like me much, I think.”

“Well, you’re a demon. Surely she’s not meant to like you.”

“She likes Ligur, though. Ligur’s good at talking to anyone.”

“Ah. Well, I’ve not much to say on the matter. They haven’t tried to contact us.”

Hastur picked up the book he’d held hostage and handed it over. “Do you want to feel the baby?”

“Oh, uh, no thank you!” Aziraphale said quickly, taking the book and holding it like a shield.

“I only want you to see what we’re protecting,” Hastur said, pulling his shirt up, the little glow under his skin brighter than ever before.

“It’s--”

“Put your hand on it.”

“Oh, very well.”

Aziraphale’s hand on his skin was clammy and awkward, and he kept it there for only a moment before snatching it away.

“Well?” Hastur asked. “Could you feel anything? You’re the angel, after all.”

“Yes. Quite.” Aziraphale had his hands in his lap now. “It certainly is...something.”

“Ligur said I smell different now.”

“Ah.”

“Do I?”

“Well, I don’t actually, er, go around smelling people. That’s more Crowley’s department. Never been my thing, really.”

“Oh.”

“Look,” Aziraphale said, like he was offering an olive branch. “How about I get us some cocoa and nibbles, and you put your shirt back down, and I’ll read you some of that poetry, hmm?”

Hastur shrugged. Nibbles? What a weirdo. But it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do.

“Okay. Whatever.”


	11. Chapter 11

Ligur took a drag from his cigarette and sighed. He’d agreed to stick around for a meeting, and then Legion had asked him a question, which led to them taking a trip to the sixth circle to solve a problem. Now he was waiting for Dagon to print his next list of assignments, which took forever because the printer always jammed, and said it was out of paper, when it clearly wasn’t.

He thought about asking Dagon about the filing system, right then and there, but he held his tongue. He’d promised Hastur he’d come back, and he always kept his promises to his husband.

“Where’s Hastur?” Dagon asked, wrenching another sheet of paper away from the printer that was trying its best to eat it.

“Spreading discord,” Ligur responded without a thought. 

The printer sputtered and hissed. Dagon growled and thumped it into submission.

“Aren’t you tired of it up there?” Dagon started handing him the assignment sheets. “We could get someone else to take your spot for a bit.”

“Would they be any good at it, though,” he shot back, careful not to show any affinity for the place. Wouldn’t want to let the word out that he had any sort of feelings about Earth, even though he didn’t really, except as a place of refuge. Hastur wasn’t the only one who missed Hell, who missed wreaking havoc. Sure, he had more freedom than Hastur did, currently, but he still had to be careful.

“Probably not,” Dagon agreed cheerfully, giving the printer one final kick. “There’s a reason no one’s got a promotion for a few hundred years.” She smiled, gleefully showing off her teeth, of which she was very proud, and for good reason.

“You saying we’ve got some slackers in our midst?” He smirked. “Shall I spread some fear around, yeah?”

Dagon took the last sheet of paper from the printer, gathered up the rest of the papers in Ligur’s arms, and stapled them all together with an ancient piece of office equipment that was more rust than anything else. It worked, for the most part, through the sheer force of Dagon’s will.

“I think that would please Lord Beelzebub very much,” she said, returning the load of papers to Ligur’s arms. “Very, very much.”

\---

Hastur was lying on Aziraphale’s couch, listening to the principality go on and on with some sort of poetry nonsense. Who the fuck was Pablo Neruda anyway?

His hands rested over his belly protectively, even though his limbs felt heavy and his eyelids were drooping. He ached to take a nap. He couldn’t, here, with an angel he didn’t trust, and without his husband to keep watch for them.

What was taking Ligur so long? He hadn’t gotten into trouble, had he? As soon as he thought it, he winced, turning on his side to tuck his head into a pillow. It’s not like he could go down to Hell and check. He was bloody obvious like this, and any demon who crossed his path would know something was up. Oh, they might not know that Hastur was pregnant, but they’d sniff out that something had changed, that there was a weakness to exploit. It was too dangerous to show his face down there, and he knew it.

Aziraphale was still reading, and Hastur suddenly couldn’t take it any more. He was tired, and nauseated, and worried, and Aziraphale’s soft and steady voice was too much.

“Shut it, already,” Hastur snapped as nastily as he could. He could hear the misery in his own voice, and hoped that the angel couldn’t.

He heard the quick audible closing of the book, and looked up to see Aziraphale leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

Well, that was something. Except now it was exceedingly quiet, which was also somehow too much. Hastur lifted his hand to his mouth and whimpered in frustration. Ligur didn’t like when he hurt himself, would especially not like it if he hurt himself now, in the state he was in, but he couldn’t stop himself. He bit at the flesh of the meaty part of his thumb and wailed. It wasn’t _fair_.

Tears leaked from his eyes into the pillow he was leaning against and he let himself feel how unfair it all was, all the sorrow, all the agony of having to be away from what he’d known for so long. He wasn’t like Crowley, he didn’t crave time on Earth, and he certainly had no love for humanity. Sure, he got frustrated in Hell, but it was where he felt comfortable, and being on Earth with no timeline for when he might be able to return, if ever, was eating away at him.

“Hastur?”

Oh, wonderful. The bloody angel was back in the room. 

“Go away,” he said, his voice creaking like an old stairway. Stupid _crying_ , stupid _angel_ , stupid _pregnancy_.

“Ah, I was only wondering. Well. Would you like me to get you anything?”

“Is Crowley meant to be getting back soon?” he asked into the pillow. Crowley wasn’t who he wanted, of course, but he was a familiar face, a familiar voice. He didn’t have anyone on Earth except for him, and at least he knew Crowley. He didn’t know this angel, and furthermore, he didn’t want to know him. 

“I’ll, uh, give him a ring, shall I?”

Hastur heard the sound of Aziraphale leave again, and let himself cry a little more, holding onto his belly and tucking his wounded thumb under his chin.

It was all a little bit pathetic. He was a duke of Hell, a powerful demon, and definitely not meant to be sobbing on a couch. He could get up now and leave. In fact, he _should_ get up and leave. He could go anywhere, do anything. He didn’t need them, did he?

He sat up, and felt a wave of nausea roll over him, and suddenly he was emptying his stomach contents onto the rug. Ah. Well, at least he felt a little better now. His throat burned from the force of it, but his stomach was no longer tormenting him.

\---

Crowley’s mobile phone rang as he pulled up the driveway to the cottage.

“Yes, angel?” he answered.

“Oh! Darling, I don’t suppose you’re on your way home, are you?”

“I’m here now,” he said as he parked, and exited the Bentley.

“Oh, good.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, yes. Only, come inside and I’ll tell you.”

Aziraphale hung up and Crowley stared at his phone before making his way inside. Aziraphale was sitting at the kitchen table, and looked relieved to see him.

“Hastur’s here,” Aziraphale said quietly, and with meaning.

“Oh?”

“He’s--well, he doesn’t seem to be coping very well at all. And maybe _you’d_ better go talk to him,” Aziraphale continued, in a tone of voice that meant that Crowley had better go talk to him, or Aziraphale might do something desperate.

“Right. Of course,” Crowley said, and made his way to the sitting room.

Hastur was on the couch, head in his hands, a puddle of sick on the floor in front of him. Well, Crowley could fix one of those problems at least, and he miracled the puddle away.

“Hey,” Crowley said gently, sitting down next to him.

“Ligur’s not back yet,” Hastur mumbled into his hands. “What if, what if someone found out?”

“Hey. There’s no reason to think that. No one knows, no one except us. You’re not even showing yet.”

“I’m showing something.” Hastur pointedly took his hands from his face and cupped his stomach. “Ligur said I smell different. I know I feel different. The light ain’t exactly subtle. It’s only a matter of time before someone finds out, and then what? Jus’ because they leave you two bastards alone don’t mean they’ll do the same for me ‘n mine. We don’t have any fancy tricks up our sleeves neither.”

“But they have left us alone, and you’re only next door.” Crowley, very, very slowly, reached for Hastur’s hand. “Why are you bleeding? Did something happen?”

Hastur jerked away. “None of your business.”

“Let me heal it, at least.”

“Why don’t you back off!” Hastur shouted, curling in on himself. “You don’t have to do it, okay? Ligur’ll be back soon, and he’ll fix me up like he always does, and you can jus’ keep your hands to yourself.”

“Fine, fine. See if I try to help you again. Always pushing me away when you _know_ I’m the only one who wants to help you.”

“You _don’t_. You want to, I dunno, help the baby. But you don’t care about me. You never have. You care about that stuffy angel more than you’ve ever cared about your own lot.”

Crowley gaped at him, his mouth open in shock. “Do you _want_ me to care about you?”

“No.” Hastur shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe.”

“Why?”

Hastur’s dark eyes were glistening. “Don't matter. You never cared. No matter, no matter to you that you tried to kill my husband for good. That you left me inside that, that answering machine, all alone, without a care. You _never_ would have come back for me.”

“Hastur…” Crowley didn’t know what to say. Would he have gone back for Hastur? No, likely not. Weren’t they enemies at the time? “Well, it’s not like you wouldn’t have done the same!”

Hastur turned to him and snarled. “I _wouldn’t_.”

Was that true? Would Hastur have done things differently, if their situations were reversed? Maybe. An inconvenient feeling of guilt resurfaced, like it always did when Crowley thought about the events with the holy water.

Crowley shut his mouth with an audible clack. He reached for Hastur’s hand again, softly, and this time Hastur let him take it.

“Let me heal this?” He rubbed over Hastur’s thumb, where the blood had congealed.

“Not saying thank you,” Hastur grumbled, turning his face away.

It was a minor miracle, all things considered. A touch of Crowley’s hand along the break in the skin. Nothing, really. But Hastur seemed to relax, and Crowley held onto him as they waited for Ligur to return.


	12. Chapter 12

Ligur came back from Hell to an empty cottage. He then immediately went across the way to Crowley’s and yanked the door off the hinges.

“Hastur?” He called.

“In here.”

Ligur made his way into the living room, past a glaring angel.

“How nice of you to _knock_ ,” Aziraphale said, even as Ligur reached for his husband and pulled him into his arms.

“You really should get that door fixed,” Ligur said in return. Crowley was oddly silent, looking fleetingly to each one of them in turn.

Ligur couldn’t bring himself to care. His husband was looking a little worse for wear, and Ligur needed to get him alone so he could see to him, without judging and prying eyes.

“How did it go?” Hastur asked, as soon as they were back in their own bedroom.

“Fine. Got the new assignments. Ripped into a few underperforming demons as a favor, so Lord Beelzebub’s pretty pleased with me for the moment.”

“Yeah?” Hastur looked hopeful, his wan expression starting to perk up.

“What about you? I didn’t expect you’d be over there, visiting.”

And with those words, Hastur’s countenance turned stormy once more. “Yeah. Well. Not much to do up here, is there?”

“Oh, love,” Ligur whispered, starting to undo the buttons on Hastur’s coat. “Sweetheart…”

“Ligur.”

“Husband.” Ligur continued stripping him down, helping him out of his shoes and bidding him lie down on the bed so he could remove his slacks. “My only love.”

“Ligur!” Hastur threw an arm over his eyes to hide them away. How his husband since the very beginning, since even before the Fall, could still have this effect on him, he’d never know.

“Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.” Ligur took away his tie, and then unbuttoned his shirt and lifted that away as well, until Hastur was lying there in only his plaid pair of boxer shorts, his skin flushed and his chest heaving. 

“Going to have your way with me?” Hastur teased, breathless.

“Depends.” Ligur took off his coat and stepped out of his shoes. “Are you offering?”

Hastur pushed himself up on his elbows and watched as Ligur removed his shirt, and then his trousers too, getting into a similar state of undress.

Ligur crawled onto the bed, then, hovering over him, arms bracketing his head, careful not to press into him.

“Will you kiss me, love? You’re not upset with me?” Ligur lifted a hand to trail a finger along Hastur’s jawline.

“Not upset with _you_.”

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” Ligur pressed a kiss to the top of Hastur’s head, to his wild blond hair. “My ears are yours.”

“Don’t make me talk now,” Hastur whined. He pressed a palm up against Ligur’s crotch and grasped at him through the fabric of his underwear. “Fill my mouth up so I can’t talk. Distract me. Let me have what I want.”

“That’s not playing fair, doll.” Ligur kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re getting me worked up.”

“Why should I play fair?” Hastur rubbed his hand along his length. “I’m a demon.”

“You’re my husband and a _tease_. Don’t make me put you over my knee.”

“You’ve been saying that since we were angels.” Hastur leaned up and kissed Ligur full on the lips. He nipped at them playfully, all the while moving his hand against the familiar hardness in Ligur’s briefs. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. Put your cock in my mouth.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t make me beg for it.” Hastur’s words were beginning to take on a frustrated edge.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Ligur reassured him. “Whatever you want, you’ll get. You never have to beg.”

“In my mouth, then,” Hastur said. “I want to suck you.”

“Okay, love. Whatever you want.”

Ligur sat back so he could shove down his underwear and throw them across the room. His cock was fully hard, and he had to use every ounce of self control that he possessed to keep from ripping off Hastur’s boxers and ravishing him. Hastur was still lying there, looking so damn good Ligur could barely stand it. Looking like a treat and a half, and more. He’d never been able to believe his own luck when it came to Hastur, who was everything to him, a sweetheart, an absolute doll.

“How do you want me?” He gave into the urge to take hold of Hastur’s skinny leg, letting his hand move upwards to a knobbly knee, and up to a shapely, if scrawny, thigh. He knew Hastur’s body as well as his own, but he was always longing to touch, to bring their bodies together, to keep him close and safe and sound.

“Put me on my knees,” Hastur said, reaching out for Ligur to grab his hands and pull him into a sitting position on the bed. “I want to get on my knees for you.”

“I’m not gonna last long, not in your pretty little mouth,” Ligur murmured, moving to kiss the aforementioned mouth, to lick into it and feel Hastur’s tongue against his own. Hastur kissed back so perfectly, so completely. Ligur was always overwhelmed by it. His beautiful husband, the love of his life, all of his lanky limbs and deep, dark eyes, slender wrists and straw blond hair, all in his arms, letting Ligur have him. 

Ligur could have kept kissing him for ages, but Hastur was determined to get what he wanted from him, and broke away at last. Hastur scowled when Ligur placed a pillow on the floor, but knelt upon it anyway, his eagerness bursting through.

“Go easy on me, doll,” Ligur pleaded. Hastur on his knees was a powerful sight, it made him weak, and he was already so weak for his husband.

Hastur reached for him with a hand, coming in close to wrap his lips around Ligur’s cock. Those lips. That mouth. Ligur could come just thinking about it.

He let his hands wander to the top of Hastur’s head, playing with his blond strands of hair, not pulling, never pulling. He couldn’t bear to hear Hastur gasp in any pain, it was unthinkable. But he could play there, happily, as Hastur’s wet mouth enveloped him, sucking up and down his shaft, licking at the head of his cock.

“Feels so good, sweetheart. Oh, you’re not playing nice at all,” he mumbled, caressing Hastur’s cheeks with both hands.

His orgasm was building quickly, he could feel it about to happen, and he tapped gently at Hastur’s chin.

“Oh, love. Gonna come for you, love,” he groaned.

Hastur moaned around him, and he reached his climax, coming hot into his husbands perfect mouth.

“Here, let me, let me help you up,” he muttered, feeling dreamy, like he was off on another world. He grasped Hastur’s wrists and helped him back up to his feet, and then back up to the bed. 

They laid side by side, facing each other, each of them moving to kiss the other softly from time to time. 

Eventually Ligur’s hand found its way between Hastur’s legs, underneath his boxers, and he played and teased at his cunt until he was coming on his fingers, gasping Ligur’s name and crying out.

“There’s not anything I wouldn’t do for you,” Ligur said, pulling Hastur’s boxers all the way off for easier access. “If you’re unhappy, I’ll fix it. I’ll find some way to fix it. If you’re worried, I’ll solve it. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”

“I know you will,” Hastur answered, before moaning as Ligur licked his tongue against his clit. Ligur loved the feeling of doing this for his husband, loved licking at his pussy and feeling him come against his mouth. Hastur’s slim thighs squeezed against him, urging him on.

“Make me come,” Hastur said, in the breathy, gasping voice that was for his ears alone. “Make me come, husband.”

Ligur’s tongue went everywhere, licking, moving against him, making Hastur shake and shiver until his body reached the point where his orgasm thrust its way through him.

“I love you,” Ligur said, between his thighs. He let Hastur pull him up and kiss him. 

“I love you. I love you,” Ligur said against Hastur’s lips. “Let me show you how much I love you. Let me make everything better.”

Hastur whimpered and pressed his face to Ligur’s solid chest. “I’m your sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” Ligur agreed, wrapping his arms around him. “You are.”


End file.
